Two (Early) In the Morning
by KitKatt0430
Summary: Cisco wakes to a crashing noise in his kitchen at too-damn-early o'clock in the morning and finds his temporary roommate having an anxiety attack over breaking a coffee mug. Hartmon Fest 2019: - hugs - hurt/comfort


Summary: Cisco wakes to a crashing noise in his kitchen at too-damn-early o'clock in the morning and finds his temporary roommate having an anxiety attack over breaking a coffee mug.

Hartmon Fest 2019:  
– Mar 10th - hugs  
– Feb 22nd - hurt/comfort

Notes: Some more quotes from the show, this time from episode 1x03: Things You Can't Outrun

Part 2 of Visions While I Sleep; follows after the story "Words in the Air"

_**Two (Early) In the Morning**_

Forging an alliance with a former rival turned reluctant ally is not exactly an easy task. Especially when Hartley wants the first order of business to be plotting revenge and Cisco wants it to be taking Hartley somewhere warm and safe to sleep for twenty-four hours because the dude looks massively sleep deprived and also suspiciously like he's squatting in the warehouse with a ridiculously uncomfortable cot as his only place of rest. (Which, obviously, that's exactly what's going on.)

They argue over this and then Hartley starts yawning.

Once the yawning begins, Cisco pretty much just starts counting down until Hartley is reluctantly hiding away all the stuff he doesn't want to move but doesn't want stolen and packing a (far too small) bag of things to go with him back to Cisco's apartment. The drive there is basically silent and Hartley nearly nods off a few times. Cisco hears the quiet noises he makes every time he jerks himself awake.

But then they're parked and Cisco leads the way to his place where he pulls a sleeper bed out of his over-sized reading chair in the corner and puts sheets on it while Hartley is border-line politely sent to the bathroom to shower because he clearly hasn't been getting enough of those lately. Also, Hartley had lost his lunch earlier after the impromptu vision sharing and would probably want to wash his mouth out with the spare toothbrush Cisco had found for him.

Hartley zombie walked his way through the early dinner Cisco made for them - soup in consideration that they both needed something easy on their stomachs after the day they had - and then passed out while Cisco was finishing the dishes.

So Cisco pulled the covers up to Hartley's shoulders, turned off the lights, and quietly went to his own room to change and sleep. He takes just enough time to shoot off an email to work saying he's taking the next day off too, but should be back in the day after. Then he sets his alarm for noon and passes out himself.

* * *

CRASH

Cisco jerks awake, blinking hard and sitting up sharply, brain not yet ready to start distinguishing reality from dreams. But after a minute or so his brain eventually registers that the crashing noise had been real and also he has a guest in the apartment he probably ought to check on.

So he gets up, puts on his slippers and robe, and pads out into the living room. There's a light on in the kitchen and it takes Cisco a moment to identify Hartley kneeling on the ground trying to clean something up with his hands. Then it sinks in that Hartley seems to be crying.

Scurrying over, Cisco realizes the things that Hartley is trying to pick up are sharp and have already sliced one of the physicist's fingers already.

"Hey, Hartley," Cisco starts to say, trailing off when the other man flinches and starts crying harder.

"I'm sorry," Hartley says, in between the uncontrolled sobbing. "I-I'm so sorry."

That's when Cisco realizes that what Hartley's trying to clean up are shattered pieces of a broken mug. Hartley must've been trying to make something to drink. Hopefully not coffee; caffeine was the last thing the guy needed right now. He was high strung enough as it was.

"It's okay. But you've hurt your hand," Cisco caught Hartley's hands with his own, careful of the injury, "and I'd like to go bandage that up in the bathroom, okay?"

Hartley nods jerkily, still crying and borderline hyperventilating. Truth be told, Cisco's not entirely surprised this is happening, what with all the stress Hartley's been under since before the accelerator went boom and then everything that happened today bringing it all to a tipping point where Hartley just... boiled over, apparently. But as awful as this has to feel for Hartley right now, Cisco is just glad he's crashing now over something insignificant and not later when they've inevitably pissed each other off.

Once in the bathroom, Cisco runs the tap and stick's Hartley's injured hand underneath while inspecting the other hand for further injury. Nothing there, so Cisco then pulls out a tube of neosporin and some band-aids. Tugging Hartley's hand out of the water (and shutting the tap back off), Cisco lightly dries Hartley's hand, smudges some neosporin on the cut, and puts a cheerful Avengers band-aid over the small wound.

By now Hartley is snuffling and looking anywhere but Cisco, clearly embarrassed. So Cisco tugs him into a hug anyway.

Hartley's goes stiff in Cisco's arms and so Cisco says, "it's alright, okay? I'm not upset about the cup. Just worried about you right now."

The blond man sniffles and then begins to cry again, grabbing on to Cisco tightly and burying his face against Cisco's shoulder. Cisco just rubs light circles on Hartley's back in response and murmurs soothingly until Hartley's tears finally dry up again.

"I should finish cleaning up," Hartley says, pulling away, voice nasally from all his crying blocking up his sinuses.

"Nope," Cisco corrected. "I'm going to clean up. With a broom and a dust pan and then the floor sweeper for the tiny bits. You are going to go sleep in my room and I'll take the sleeper chair for the rest of the night."

"I can't take your bed," Hartley objected. "You've already..." he snaps his mouth shut, looking away again with a shamed expression.

Cisco purses his lips in thought for a moment then offers, "if you don't mind sharing the bed with me, then that'll work too. But at least in there you'll be marginally buffered from the noise the floor sweeper makes and you need to rest."

Hartley lets out a shuddering breath. "Okay. That's fine. I just don't want to put you out of your own bed." At least he realizes he's not really in any shape to argue with Cisco over this.

"You'll probably feel better after you wash your face," Cisco suggests gently. "There's some benedryl in the medicine cabinet if you think that'll help clear up your breathing some." More like it'll knock Hartley out for the rest of the night, but it's not like the guy doesn't need it at this point.

Either way, Cisco slides out of the room and proceeds to clean up the broken mug. It's his Legend of Zelda mug, which sucks. He likes all his coffee mugs, though, so he'd be a little sad no matter which one broke. Still, at least he caught things before Hartley hurt himself too badly in the midst of that - panic attack? anxiety attack? - and hopefully managed to calm the man down some.

There's an abandoned bag of chamomile tea on the counter. Cisco puts it away and pours two glasses of water instead, taking those back into his room.

Hartley sitting on the bed, very much awake, however. His back is ramrod straight against the headboard, his knees tucked up under his chin while he stared blankly off to the side.

"Was the vacuum too loud for you?"

"No." Hartley's voice is raspy from crying and Cisco rethinks his drink choices. Maybe chamomile tea with honey is what Hartley needs after all. But Cisco's also a little worried that seeing another mug might set Hartley off again.

Cisco walks over and puts one glass of water on the nightstand beside Hartley before heading around to the other side of the bed. He clicks off the light along the way. Then he puts down his own water and gets under the covers.

Hartley slowly follows Cisco's lead, tucking his legs and then his torso beneath the covers. But he lay stiffly next to Cisco, the tension so bad Cisco was sure Hartley would snap.

"Is it okay if we spoon?" Cisco asks.

"What?" Hartley sounds more confused, than offended, which seems promising.

"I cuddle in my sleep. Like a very snuggly octopus," Cisco explains. "If we spoon up, though, then we'll already be cuddling and then I won't accidentally smack you in the face or something in my sleep while I gravitate to the warm body in bed with me." Also if Cisco were the 'big' spoon then he would basically be giving Hartley a stealth hug and, quite frankly, it seemed like Hartley could do with some more physical reassurance.

There was a long moment of silence before Hartley let out a quiet sigh. "Yeah, sure. That's fine." He turned on his side and scooted back some towards Cisco.

Smiling to himself over the success, Cisco turned towards Hartley and spooned up behind him, draping an arm lightly over Hartley's chest. "This okay?"

"Y-" Hartley paused, clearly yawning. "Yes, its fine, Cisco. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

* * *

_There was an alarm blaring in Cisco's ears and it was not helping him focus at all._

_"Okay," said Ronnie, "you stay here. We've only got a few minutes before this thing blows and, if I'm not back in time, you need to initiate lock down."_

_"No way." Cisco shook his head. "I am not closing this door. I won't be able to open it again."_

_"Cisco." Ronnie's expression was determined. "If you don't seal off the blast, everyone in this building will die. Including Caitlin."_

_Cisco felt himself give in. Ronnie could see it on his face._

_"Okay, now promise me. Set your watch. Two minutes."_

_"You're coming back," Cisco insisted, even as he did as told._

_And then two minutes passed and Cisco... Cisco closed the door and he had never hated himself more as it slid shut._

_Caitlin gets there moments later. "Where's Ronnie? Cisco... where is he?"_

_"He's still inside."_

_"What? Open the door."_

_"I can't. We're in lock down mode."_

_"Cisco, we have to get him out of there or he'll die."_

_If she knew he was the one to close the door... and then Ronnie's voice comes over the intercom and Cisco wants to scream because if he'd just fucking waited like he'd wanted to..._

_But he re-calibrates the particle parameters like Ronnie tells him to and listens as Caitlin begs Ronnie to find a way out and Ronnie just... tries to tell Caitlin he loves her one last time but there's no time at all and then an explosion rocks the whole building..._

Jerking awake with a keening wail, Cisco doesn't know where he is. Ronnie's dead and Cisco doesn't know where he is and everything's wrong and its his fault and...

And someone is holding him, rocking back and forth singing a children's nonsense song and slowly stroking his hair.

Cisco feels his breathing slowly calm down and his memories filter in and... oh. Hartley's actually got a pretty decent singing voice. This would probably be more embarrassing if their positions hadn't been reversed earlier in the night.

"Thanks," Cisco croaked out, his voice not quite cooperating with him right.

Hartley's singing stopped, as did the rocking motion, but he didn't let go of Cisco and Cisco made no effort to move. "I guess we're both having a bad night," Hartley observed quietly.

"Seems that way."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Cisco thought it over for a long moment and then nodded, knowing Hartley would feel the motion. "When the accelerator... when it exploded... I told you Ronnie was inside. But I was the one who closed the door on him. He said to wait two minutes and I did, but I should've waited longer. I should've waited..." Cisco's voice cracked and he felt tears prick his eyes.

Hartley held him a little more tightly. "You shouldn't have been in that situation to begin with, Cisco. This is Harrison's fault."

"He's not the one who closed the fucking door," Cisco muttered, soothed despite himself when Hartley awkwardly patted his shoulder.

"You did the right thing, Cisco. What does Caitlin have to say about it?" he added, sounding fully confident that she must have told Cisco the same thing already.

"She doesn't know I closed the door," Cisco admitted quietly, tears running down his face now. "I don't know how to tell her. I can't tell her."

"Oh, Cisco," Hartley sighed quietly.

"Thanks," Cisco snuffled, pulling away and wiping at his face.

"Turnabout's only fair. I'm still sorry about the mug, though."

"I can always get a new one. Though I shouldn't. I probably have too many already." Cisco offered Hartley a smile, though it was a ghost compared to his usual grins. "Those things multiply like rabbits."

Hartley snorted in amusement and let the heavy part of the conversation go. For the moment, anyway. "So, it's... ugh, it was two when I woke up the first time and now its four-forty-nine. And you've got work in the morning."

"Nope. Already emailed in saying I need another day off. I have to go in Friday, though, or Caitlin will show up to check on me and I haven't said anything about my visions to her yet because... it sounds crazy. Hell, I thought I was going crazy."

"Well, you're not crazy." Hartley paused a beat. "Or we both are. But I know which answer I prefer."

Cisco let out a startled laugh. "Well, the alarm is set for noon. Want to see if we can manage any more sleep tonight?"

"Yeah, sure." Hartley lay back down and made no comment when Cisco curled up around him again.

Before, Cisco had been seeking to comfort Hartley, but this time he rather wanted the comfort for himself.

* * *

Cisco had not expected to fall asleep again. But he did and he woke to fuzzy confusion, not sure why it was odd that he was alone in his own bed, just that it was.

And then he smelled coffee.

Getting up and pulling on his robe (and shutting off his alarm so it wouldn't go off in an hour), Cisco padded out into the living room.

Hartley was in the kitchen, making breakfast foods. "Morning, Cisco. I, uh, didn't think you'd mind."

"I don't mind at all. As long as some of that's for me. Is that coffee? I need coffee." Cisco made a beeline to the coffee machine, grabbed a mug, and poured himself a cup.

"Yes, Cisco. Half of this is for you." Hartley snickered. "So, when you're more awake will you be ready to start planning our revenge on Harrison?"

"Uh-huh." Cisco leaned over his coffee and just inhaled the wonderful scent. "After my first cup. I'm not... really coherent yet."

"I'm getting that impression. Go sit down. Brunch will be ready soon."

Nodding, Cisco added some cream and sugar to his coffee and then sat himself on one of the chairs at the breakfast bar. The scrambled eggs Hartley was making smelled delicious too. He was halfway through his coffee when Hartley slid a plate of cheesy, hammy, seasoned scrambled eggs in front of Cisco. And some toast too.

"So, who's this coma patient and his detective foster father?" Hartley asked, sliding onto the second bar chair.

"Coma guy is Barry Allen. Well, Bartholomew Allen. And I thought Francisco was stuffy," Cisco joked, then took a bite of deliciousness. "Oh my god, this is amazing. What else can you cook?"

"Cisco, focus."

"Right. Anyway. Barry Allen is a CSI for the CCPD. His foster father is Detective Joe West, also of the CCPD. And I've been over Barry's facebook page probably one too many times, but honestly he doesn't really seem all that special before the accelerator blew. Nothing that Dr. Wells would be interested in anyways. His father killed his mother fourteen-ish years ago. Or was framed. Barry thinks his dad was framed, anyway. And he's got a blog on seemingly supernatural events that could maybe be proven with science. It's actually a pretty fun read. Dude makes some really good points."

"So anything interesting about him post accelerator?" Hartley asked, having apparently picked up on that distinction.

"Yeah, actually. He's pretty weird. And... it's probably unethical for me to tell you any of it." Cisco winced when Hartley looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "I'm just saying, this is technically privileged medical info. And also bizarre. If Cait weren't still grieving for Ronnie she'd be over the moon to have a patient this weird."

"Weird, how?" Hartley asked, patience audibly running thin.

Cisco sighed to himself. It might not be entirely ethical, but Hartley was the strategist and understood how Dr. Wells thought best. Hartley was the one most likely to figure out why Wells had been interested in Barry before the accelerator had gone wrong. "He's been having seizures. At first doctors thought his heart was stopping, but Dr. Wells was certain Barry's heart was just beating too fast for their machines to trace. He convinced Detective West to release Barry into STAR Labs care where Caitlin realized pretty quick that Barry was also healing at a massively accelerated rate too. She... she thinks Dr. Wells already knew that and brought Barry back to see if..."

"If Barry's healing could fix his paralysis?" Hartley filled in, when Cisco trailed off.

"Yeah."

"But if Wells was interested in Barry Allen before he became a medical oddity and he was planning to meet Allen after the accelerator fucked over the city, then..." Hartley looked somewhere between amazed and appalled, "he really did blow of the accelerator on purpose. He really was targeting Allen. I know we considered that yesterday, but it still seems so..." he shook his head, as though to clear it. "Cisco... somehow, I think Harrison knew what the accelerator would do to this guy. The rest of us are just collateral damage in an experiment meant to change one single person. I don't... how the hell did he even know about Allen? And predict that Allen would react to the dark energy released that night in exactly this way? But it... it just feels right, doesn't it?"

Sometimes the best hypothesis was the one that felt right. Well, no, the best hypothesis was one that had plenty of facts to back it up and could not only be proven through rigorous testing but was replicable. But at the outset of an experiment and in lieu of facts contradicting it, the hypothesis that felt right was usually the best one to test first.

"I think maybe we need to find out more about his mother's death," Hartley continued slowly. "If he's a CSI who thinks his father was framed, it's a good bet he picked his career in order to find a way to legally exonerate his father."

"It's the source of his obsession with the supernatural too," Cisco added thoughtfully. "He remembers some pretty weird stuff happening that night. Let's see if I can find the right blog post." Hopping off his chair, Cisco retrieved his laptop and brought it back to the breakfast bar. He opened it up, logged in, and googled Barry's blog name since he couldn't remember the url. A few moments later and Cisco had them at the right site. "He talked about it in one of the earliest blog posts, but I only skimmed the early stuff."

Hartley took over from there, letting Cisco eat in peace for a little bit while he found the post in question and began reading.

"Okay, so... I woke up to loud noises downstairs and a weird pressure in the air. Water was bulging upward out of my fish tank and taking some of the fish up with it. There were some other things floating around the room too, like gravity had lowered in a localized area. Which, yeah, I concede that could have been my brain not being totally awake yet. But I headed down to where the noise was coming from and... there was mom. Stuck in the center of the room while yellow and red lightning circled the room." He stopped reading at the look on Cisco's face. "What?"

"When the... when the accelerator failed, the first sign that something was wrong was... Dr. Wells popped open a champagne bottle and... the champagne didn't spray out, it floated out. Like you see in low gravity environments. It sort of... spiraled in the air for a moment before suddenly just... splashing to the floor like gravity was normal again. And then the alarms went off." Cisco felt sick at the memory and pushed the mostly emptied plate of food away from himself. "Like what he described in his post. Water floating upward out of his fish tank."

"Could... Allen have been exposed to dark energy that night?" Hartley asked, looking between Cisco and the blog post. "How would that even have been possible without a particle accelerator?"

"I have no idea."

* * *

Notes: Dun, dun, duuuun!

That was fun to write.

Poor guys, though. They are basically emotionally wrung out here already, aren't they? At least they're finally getting some much needed hugs.


End file.
